COMPLETED. A university student. A professional hockey player. They've proved they can be friends. Can they be more?
Although they're both in their early twenties and living in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, their lives couldn't be more different. Cami...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Now I know why you were so worried that night that I went to your house for dinner. Watching your family grill someone feels like shit."
"Oh, come on," I said, keeping my eyes on my feet to ensure I didn't trip down the stairs and plough into Taylor's back. "They weren't grilling me. I thought it was all perfectly normal conversation."
Not that I was exactly an expert in that, but still.
"Please," Taylor said as stepped off the bottom stair and onto the floor of the basement. "My mom asked if you have a boyfriend."
I winced and Taylor made a satisfied face in return.
"Okay, fine. Maybe that was a little...you know. She was probably just curious."
"Too bad subtlety's not her strong suit."
I agreed with him on that one. Sofia seemed like a woman who wanted everyone around her to know what she wanted. I liked that. Sure, at times it was probably overbearing but I'd take that over shrewdness any day.
When I joined Taylor at the foot of the stairs, I saw my suitcase standing in the hallway.
"Thanks for bringing it down."
"No problem. Sorry you have to stay in the basement, but if it makes you feel any better, I'll also be down here."
And why would that make me feel better? It didn't matter why, because it did.
"It's fine, I don't mind."
"Only my parents' bedroom is upstairs. My bedroom, well, I guess what used to be my bedroom, and the spare bedroom are here."
I nodded and let Taylor lead me to the spare bedroom.
That was really the only logical place for me to be, right? Some people were traditional, and they didn't like non-married couples to sleep in the same room in their house. With Taylor and I, that didn't even cross anyone's minds. We weren't a couple, let alone married. In fact, sharing the same room would have just been odd.
"It's not much, pretty much a bed and dresser. There's no ensuite, but you can either use mine or the washroom upstairs," Taylor said as he pushed open the door.
Upon taking in the small, rectangular room, my first thought was: Taylor was wrong.
There was more than a bed and dresser there. There was also a television, a messily-made bed, a hamper full of dirty clothes, and books scattered on the dresser. It looked lived in.
"I'm sorry, but I think I'm throwing a wrench in your plans," someone said.
The voice came out of nowhere and I jumped. Taylor gave me a 'what the hell?' look. We were in a basement, cut me some slack, people.
Thankfully, the interloper was only Mark.
"Uncle Mark, what's going on?" Taylor asked. His eyes darted from his uncle, to the room, and back to his uncle. "Have you been staying here?"
